“Imagine, if you will, the luxurious suite at the Cosmopolitan, perched high above the glittering lights of Las Vegas. The suite is opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a breathtaking view of the Strip. The city hums with life far below, but up there, in this serene, secluded space, Winston Donovan waits, excited and filled with anticipation. He’s planned a private celebration for his fiancée, Olivia—a night to mark their engagement, a night that is supposed to be filled with love and joy.”
Colton’s voice softened, as if he could see the scene unfolding before him. “Winston has ordered champagne, the finest vintage, chilled to perfection. The lights are dimmed just so, creating an intimate atmosphere that reflects the depth of his feelings for her. The scent of lavender, relaxing and soothing, is—”
“How did you know?” I blurted, springing to my feet without thinking.
Shocked, Colton turned toward me, his mouth open and his eyebrows raised. The judge frowned at me, pushing his bifocals up his nose with a quick gesture. The courtroom filled with whispers, surging like a wave.
I cleared my thickened throat and raised my voice over the ruckus. “How did you know his room smelled of lavender?”
58
Lavender
“Order!” The gavel cracked several times, underlining the judge’s increasing frustration with the commotion in his courtroom. People were talking loudly, turning their heads and interacting with each other while pointing fingers. Arguing. About my life, my destiny.
Out of all those agitated, restless people, one person sat completely still and silent, looking straight at me.
Claire.
She had an intrigued expression on her face, as if she’d discovered something precious, and something she was thinking how to use.
“Order!” Antunez bellowed, striking the gavel once more, then standing angrily and leaning forward over his bench. “There’s no limit to the number of people I can hold in contempt! Sit quietly, or visit my holding cells.” A moment later, the room was shrouded in silence, and everyone who had a place on a bench was seated quietly, facing forward.
Everyone except me. I kept on standing, my heart thumping in my chest, my breathing fast and shallow, my palms sweaty.
“Mr. Blake, please instruct your client to refrain from interrupting the court,” Antunez said. “She is represented.”
Colton, still staring at me with his eyes open wide in disbelief, turned his attention to the judge. “Yes, Your Honor.” Then he looked at me again, frowning. Glaring and mouthing,Sit down.
“But, Your Honor, how did he know about the smell of lavender in Winston’s suite?” I insisted, unwilling to let it go. Unable to fully understand what it meant. I only knew it was important. It changed things.
Antunez leaned forward over the bench and looked at me over the frame of his glasses. “Ms. Taylor, it’s in your best interest to not interrupt your attorney during his closing statement. Please take your seat. Don’t make me hold you in contempt.” He grabbed the gavel and raised it about an inch from the bench, ready to strike it again.
I lowered my head for a moment, considering doing as I was told, but I couldn’t. It felt wrong. It felt as if this was my last chance to say what I needed the judge to hear, and the jury, too.
Wringing my hands together, I looked at the judge pleadingly. “Your Honor, Winston had been stung by a scorpion when he was little. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid of them. He put lavender everywhere he went. It’s a natural deterrent for scorpions.”
Antunez abandoned his gavel. His frown started to dissipate. “I didn’t know that.”
Colton was slack jawed, looking pale and rattled. “I didn’t know it, either, Your Honor. I guess it’s what hotels do? Put air fresheners in high-end hotel rooms?”
I watched Colton scrambling to craft a lie, and it broke my heart and enraged me at the same time.
Starting to realize what that meant, a shiver spread through my body.
“No, Your Honor,” I said loudly, taking a few steps closer to the bench. “That’s not what happened. The hotel doesn’t use lavender to scent up the rooms. Not that room, anyway.”
“Olivia!” Colton said, urging me to sit down and shut up, just in the way he said my name.
“Bailiff, please have the jury removed!” Antunez ordered. We all waited until the last of the reluctant jurors was escorted out of thecourtroom. As soon as the door was closed, the judge asked, “And how would you know that they don’t use lavender in guests’ rooms, Ms. Taylor?” He took his glasses off and rubbed the root of his nose with two fingers, angrily, as if a headache was about to emerge from there.
I took another step closer to the bench. ADA Mitchell stood and started approaching, too. “Remember the day we filed the pretrial motions? You rejected the one where Colton—um, Mr. Blake—asked for access to the crime scene. Do you remember that motion?”
The judge put his glasses back on and flipped quickly through the pages of a file. “Yes, I have it here. Motion to suppress arrest statements was granted; motion to allow crime scene access was denied. What about it?”
“You denied it because the crime scene had already been released back to the hotel, and it was in use.”
The judge’s frown returned as he nodded impatiently.
